It was May when I first saw him, and pollen from the plant life traveled through the air. The ground was wet from having just rained, but
the sun was now shining high
as if it were
a beacon.
He was walking down the street, a simple street which could be called boring, but he
lit
it
up
with his presence.
There was no way to describe him except that his eyes were swirls of gold, like maybe
a million stars
had fallen from the night sky and
all came together
for him to
see.
I stood stock still on the sidewalk and watched him pass, and when he was gone I wondered what kind of person he was.
Was he a giving person? Or a taking person?
Or, perhaps, a perfect combination or both?
Then he turned back and smiled at me
and
I
melted.
Was this love?
If not, I didn't know what was.
***
The first thing he noticed about her was her hair. It cascaded down her shoulders, like a modern-day Rapunzel, glinting in the sunlight. He didn't know what she worked as, or where she lived, or even what her name was, but he wanted to know, and at that moment that was the only thing that mattered.
He couldn't help smiling at her, and he would have bowed to her as if she was royalty.
***
I was picking out apples at the grocery store when he walked up to me. He was holding a bag of tomatoes and
I imagined they were
roses
and that he was offering them
to
me.
Our eyes locked for a second, and although it was only a second, it was also eternity, and that is why it meant
so much.
A whisper of a smile touched his lips, and then he tentatively picked out a few apples himself, holding them like they weren't just fruit but the finest of
diamonds
and I almost laughed out loud
but I didn't.
***
He thought about asking her to dinner, but he didn't know whether she was already seeing someone, or if she would want to go with him, or even if he could bring himself to say the words.
It was simple enough to think it, and simple enough to practice, but he thought that if he was in front of her, in front of a queen like he pictured her being, he would just fall apart. He thought that it wasn't the right time yet.
But what if it was never the right time?
What if this was it, and he never saw her again, and they never even got to know what could have happened?
Wouldn't that be worse?
***
I pictured his golden eyes, or tried to. I would see
amber and
topaz and
honey
but
I could never picture his eyes the way they were in real life, the mesmerizing, willing, millions-of-stars
way.
I looked for him on the streets in town, and when I was shopping, and everywhere I thought he might be, but
he wasn't there.
Maybe
we were just strangers, and
maybe
strangers aren't supposed to meet.
They just stay strangers forever, passing one another in the street, grabbing apples in the store, noticing the deepness of each other's eyes, but never
even
knowing
their
names.
***
He watched from his balcony as she walked home. He noticed the way she walked, the way she held herself, as if each step was just as important as the last. She took them gracefully and with meaning.
He wondered where she was going, and who she would see, and if she had always walked so beautifully, even when she was little.
Did she like sunsets and oceans? Did she prefer dawn or dusk? Was she smart and regal and kind and creative and sweet, like he imagined her to be?
And had she ever fallen in love?
He saw a shiny car stop in the road, and she stopped too. A man, confident-looking, got out of the car and smiled upon seeing her. They embraced, and she kissed the man on the cheek.
Standing there on the balcony, he felt his heart sink, and he took hold of the railing. He knew the confident man could be a brother or cousin or friend, but he could also be a boyfriend or husband or the love of her life.
He turned away, thinking of her waterfall hair, sweet smile, and graceful walk only once more.
***
It was mid-summer the last time I saw him, and children with ice cream cones ran through the streets. The grass was crunchy, like straw, and
the flowers bloomed
green, red, purple, blue, as if
a rainbow.
I was sitting on a bench, and the sun's rays shone down on me, kissing my face.
For a while I was alone, until suddenly, he appeared, and sat down right
next
to
me.
I turned to him, hoping to see those golden eyes
once
more
and I couldn't stop the words from pouring out of my mouth.
"Who are you?"
He looked down at his folded hands, and said nothing. And the fact that nothing exists means that it is
something,
and something is worth just as much as
anything
and sometimes more.
Sometimes, nothing can be everything in itself, because nothing is the absence of everything, and therefore that whole nothingness is
everything
there
is.
That is why his absence of words was everything, and why it meant just as much as much as anything he could have said to me. My thoughts blurred into one another, and I stood up suddenly.
He watched as I walked
away.
Maybe, in another universe where things happened differently, if we had been friends and not strangers, or if the car hadn't pulled up at that second, or if he would have told me how he really felt, then we could have
ended up
together.
But that didn't matter because that didn't happen, and I went home
and
I
forgot.
I did not think of his silence at my question again, or of his hopeful smile, or even of his brilliant golden eyes, because people's hearts ache for the were and were-not, but
no one cries for
the things that
could
have
been.
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18 comments
Hi there. I've been asked to read and comment as part of the critique circle and I'm really glad I got to see this. I loved the way you alternated between standard prose and verse for your two different characters and I thought the parts from the female perspective were achingly beautiful and quite reminiscent of Sarah Crossan's books. It's a poignant story, but I think you ended on the right note. This is one of my favourite stories from recent weeks and I'm so pleased you shared it with us all.
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Thank you! This means a lot :) I haven’t heard of Sarah Crossan, but I’ll be sure to check out her books!
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Please comment my story
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This is such a great story! The style you wrote it in made it even better. Everything was brisk and flowed naturally. I especially loved the last verse : "no one cries for things that could have been." Great job and keep writing!
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Thank you so much! I haven't really written in this style before, so I'm happy that you think it turned out well.
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nice, i like what you've done with the format, alternating between verse and prose. And you've captured the feeling of 'fleeting moments with strangers' very well.
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Thanks, that's what I was going for :)
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This is so beautiful and emotional. My favorite part is "Sometimes, nothing can be everything in itself... everything there is." because it's true and so beautifully written. Thank you for sharing your wonderful work. Great job!
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I really appreciate your kind words! That sentence was meaningful to me too, so I’m glad you like it.
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This was an amazing story and I enjoyed reading it. This was beautiful and emotional and wonderful. Well done :)) Could you please read my latest story if possible? :))
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Thanks, and sure, I can read it :)
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Thanks :))
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Please comment my story
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people's hearts ache for the were and were-not, but no one cries for the things that, that is my favourite sentence, Goooood. Joooobbbb keeeep it up
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Would you please comment my story.
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Join me here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1l1H9SUk-Z4VvSKhPYAV_z1kZJLRN9UgmdaxXxKii_TM/edit?usp=sharing
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New Story! Reviews are appreciated!!!
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No story from you ? Reason audience buy ticket to visualize new story
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